Carol Spring - A Doctor Who FanFiction
by Creek Hymn
Summary: A sassy orphan girl of 12 finds herself confused and intrigued by the happenings in her life and mind. Where did she come from? What was that blue box? And most importantly, who are her parents?
1. Carol Spring

CAROL SPRING ~ A DOCTOR WHO FANFICTION

Written by Creek Hymn

* * *

I'm Carol Spring. I'm 12 years old and I live in an orphanage – I'm _not_ an orphan, though. I don't have any real proof, but I just _know_ that they're there – my parents, that is – somewhere out there in the world.  
Sometimes, I wonder if they're even out there in the _world_. I mean, the world is one tiny cell of our galaxy, and our galaxy is but a particle of dust floating around in the universe. Who says that they have to be here, on boring old earth? They could be _anywhere_ in outer space…  
Anyway, getting a little off topic. Like I said, my name's Carol. I don't know that because I remember my parents calling me that or anything, but when I was a baby, they left me on the doorstep of this orphanage. How original. They left a note with me that said, "Carol Spring". So, the orphanage workers assumed that was meant to be my name, and here I am. I think my name is about the only thing I agree on with the orphanage.  
They keep telling me I was found here as a baby and I shouldn't have any memories of my parents, because my brain wasn't developed enough yet to be able to remember anything. Pff, obviously! I'm not an idiot. In fact, I haven't even failed anything in school – I don't think I've ever even gotten less than a C. Anyway, I'm getting off topic again. Contrary to what_ they_ think is possible, I _do_ remember things. I don't know exactly what they are, and maybe I'm just remembering dreams from when I was little or something – you know how your little-kid mind can mix dreams up with reality…but somehow, I can feel that they're more than simply dreams. Besides, a simple answer like that is so unsatisfying!  
My eyes are blue, though people have said that they suddenly saw them turn green, and then blue again. At first I thought they were just teasing me, because I tend to imagine things and daydream a lot (how I manage to get the grades that I do, I haven't got a clue) so I thought they were poking fun at that. But there was this one time when I was about 9…the lady that comes in just before 9:30pm to make sure we're going to sleep came in, and I suddenly had this vivid memory of a green light. For that moment, all I could see was that shiny stick with the glowing green light at the end, and all I could hear was a whirring sound. When it was gone, the lady had this strange look on her face, and she was just staring at my eyes, as if they had popped out and started square dancing on my face.  
…What part of my mind did a metaphor like that come from? I think I'm starting to see why they call me the Dreamer now. Oh, did I forget to mention that? Sorry…anyway, the other kids have nicknamed me "the Dreamer". I think some of the kids don't even _know_ my real name – but then again, maybe _I_ don't even know my real name for sure.  
But, anyway, that wasn't the only time I had a strange vision like that. I can't count how many times, in fact, but it hasn't always been that green light. Sometimes, it's a blue box that I can hear making this grinding, scraping sort of noise that fades in and out as the box does. My memory isn't clear enough to remember exactly, but I'm almost absolutely sure there are words on it; big white lit-up letters outlined with black plastic. Speaking of lights, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure the blue box has a light on top of it, too. Anyway…that's not really relevant. Usually my visions are of that blue box and the silver stick with a green light, but some other things I've seen are - no, that can't be right.  
I guess I never really thought about it before, but now that I do, the only other things that I get visions about are…  
…bow ties.  
…And that strange red hat. What was that called again? Not a fedora, but…oh yeah, a fez! To be honest, I kind of think bow ties and fezzes are…well…cool.  
Okay, so now you generally know who I am – a daydreamer with colour-changing eyes that gets visions about shiny things, blue boxes, bow ties, and strange hats. That's me alright, but there's much more to me than that.  
Indeed, I _am_ a daydreamer with colour-changing eyes that gets visions about shiny things, blue boxes, bow ties, and strange hats, but not only that; I'm a daydreamer with colour-changing eyes that gets visions about shiny things, blue boxes, bow ties, and strange hats with a habit of trying to escape where I live and I have a cat!  
That's right. There's this stray cat – black with white speckles – that I call Milky-Way. Every day before we – us kids in the orphanage – go to sleep, I ask them to bring me a warm glass of milk. I leave it on my windowsill for Milky-Way. Depending on what time I get up, sometimes I'll see her there at the windowsill and pet her for a bit. Usually, though, I'm in a hurry and have to leave her alone outside.  
I've tried to escape the orphanage so many times. I can't count exactly how many times anymore, but my guess would be at_ least_ 4 or 5 times. I hate this place, and I _know_ I'm not an orphan – so what the heck is the point of living in an orphanage? It's like a lifeguard working in the library.  
I never know exactly where I'm even going when I escape, and I think that's my problem. I never decide where to go, so I just end up in some back alley where the police find me and take me back. I've been thinking since the last time I tried to escape, though, which was about a year ago now, and I think I finally have a reason to want to go. Sure, this is many orphans' fantasy, but hardly any of them_ actually_ pursue it – I want to find my parents. Most of the orphans I know tell me that they would do anything to know their parents, but I can tell that's a huge exaggeration – they've never done a single thing to find out about their parents or escape the orphanage like I have. They ask themselves _where_ their parents are, _who_ their parents are, _why_ they were left behind…But _I_ ask myself this: Where in the _universe_ are my parents? What do they do, wherever they are? Build spaceships? Explore planets? Or something far simpler, like working in an ordinary office on ordinary Earth? And finally…why _me_? Why do _I_ have these strange memories, if that's even what they are? Why did they leave me here? Why is it me that is so clever that my teachers think I don't even need to go to school, and haven't ever needed to? _Why?_  
Well…mom, dad, wherever you are, out there, I will answer all those questions for myself some day…and maybe that day won't be quite as far away as it may seem.


	2. Memories

CAROL SPRING ~ A DOCTOR WHO FANFICTION

Written by Creek Hymn

* * *

I borrowed a laptop, and I'm using it in my room. I mean, they hardly let us go anywhere – especially me – so how else am I going to do research? And nobody uses those brown-paged, ink-faded, dusty library books either. Okay…maybe I didn't _exactly_ borrow the laptop, I kind of, well, took it. But I'm using it, and most of the people that work here are so old that they wouldn't notice if a computer went missing for a while.  
I open up the internet browser and stare at the screen as the cursor flashes in the text search box. My fingers pick out the letters on the keyboard to spell out my own name in the search box. *_Click*._ Pages and pages come up…Carol Spring this, Carol Spring that, but not _me._ Why do I have to have such a common name? Why couldn't my name be something like…Lymphona Fazooka?  
Never mind. That's a horrible name. It sounds like the name of a brand for musical bubble gum.  
I leave my name in the search box and add '_orphan'_ to the end to see if that makes any difference. Some news reports show up about me from the times I've tried to escape, but nothing I didn't already know.  
I stare blankly at the screen until the constantly flashing cursor starts to drive me crazy and I have to drive my vision away.  
Suddenly, I can feel my vision glazing over. It's a vision coming on…the most common one I have. I can see the silver stick taking form out of the scattered white noise of a mental image. The picture clarifies itself to reveal the silver stick, and soon I can see the green light flash on. The whirring sound fills my brain and I sit there for a moment, disoriented. When a single image fills the vision centers your brain and you can hear a sound that isn't really there more than anything else, your senses tend to get overpowered, and you can't exactly tell if you're upright or not. I often find myself on the floor after the vision is gone. The green light evaporates along with the whirring and I blink, restoring a sense of reality. I find myself halfway off the bed, clinging to the blanket which had been smoothed and neat, and was now scrunched up in my hand. I lie back and continue my cyber search.  
The vision gives me an idea, so I decide to see if that shiny stick is something significant. I don't exactly know how to describe it, so I end up searching _silver stick with green light_. In the results, I get a whole bunch of random things that I'm pretty sure are not it. I switch to image mode – and _presto,_ there it is, a mosaic of pixels showing me the very thing I had been seeing in my mind for as long as I can remember…which seems to be pretty far back. I click on the image source, and after looking at a few different pictures, it becomes apparent that the mysterious device is called the 'sonic screwdriver'. Makes sense, though it doesn't look much like a screwdriver to me – more like a shiny eggbeater.  
Okay, it doesn't look anything like an eggbeater, but it doesn't look like a screwdriver either!  
I type "sonic screwdriver" in the web search. Hundreds of results pop up and out of all of them, I choose the Wikipedia link. I know, I'm _just_ that cool.  
Wikipedia – Sonic Screwdriver. I begin reading the information below.  
_"The sonic screwdriver is a futuristic device used by a man known as "The Doctor"._"  
Wait a second, "the Doctor"? Is that it? …Doctor who? I continue reading to see if it's just a typo, but several times it indicates this mysterious man, "the Doctor", who goes years between sightings and never seems to age a day to those who are lucky enough to see him more than once. According to the sources, you're extremely lucky if you get to meet him at all. Since Wikipedia isn't exactly the most reliable of sources, I try some of the other result links, but they all refer to this man…the Doctor. So, within the span of 10 minutes, I've gone from searching myself up to searching a doctor up…What does that say about me?  
This time, I search up the blue box I also often get visions of. After looking through several different links, it seems that this blue box - a 1960's police box – apparently also ties up to the Doctor, even more so than the sonic screwdriver does. Apparently, it used to be able to 'camouflage' according to its surroundings, but the 'chameleon circuit' was damaged and it's stuck in the form of a police box. People who look for the Doctor usually look for his blue box - the _TARDIS_, it's called…Time and Relative Dimension in Space. Wait…with a name like that, it sounds like something you would call a…time machine? At this point, I wouldn't rule it out as a possibility, but…whoa. That blue box I've been seeing in my mind for years is a _time machine?!_ If I had known that all that time…! I search up images of it just to verify it matches my memory, and I was right about the writing on the front – big white letters spelling out "Police Public Call Box". Some websites also comment on the scraping-hard-to-explain sound that only that blue box makes when it is materializing or dematerializing.  
So…the two most common visions I have are both tied up with the Doctor. Who is this Doctor? Why would I have any memory of him? And why haven't I heard of him before?  
I search up "the Doctor". Of course, I get results like "Dr. L. Johnson" or "Dr. S. Jones", or even "Dr. Seuss", so I have to refine my search. I try "Doctor TARDIS" and *^~KABOOM~^* - the results are much closer to what I'm looking for. I find a biography of him and begin to skim through it.  
_"The Doctor is time lord from a planet called Gallifrey_-"  
Wait, what? I haven't even read one sentence and I'm confused already._ Time lord? Gallifrey?_ Are they saying he's…an alien? A _time-traveling_ alien? I decide to just keep reading and perhaps things will start to make a little more sense.  
"…_and he is currently believed to be at least a millennium old._"  
…I…I don't…I can't…What…?!  
_"The Doctor often travels with at least one companion and hasn't been known to travel alone in a while. He saves planets on a somewhat regular basis-"_  
So I guess my theory about my parents possibly being in outer space wasn't _completely_ crazy…that is, if this "Doctor" is even real, and if he is, if I'm even connected to him…  
I read about the Doctor for another hour or so, completely lost in the information. Things start to make sense…my memories, my forgotten past, everything about me…everything just seems to connect to the Doctor. The thing that strikes me the most about him is that he is so close to being human that you wouldn't know that he's not until he gave you a stethoscope…or if he died. Two hearts to keep him going for so long, plus when even that fails, he gets an entirely new body and personality. That must be confusing. As far as I know, I don't have two hearts…but there's only one way to find out…  
I do a few laps around my small room to get my heart, or possibly hearts, going. I feel my chest where a human's heart would be, and I can feel it beating. I feel my chest lower down, not really sure where a second heart would even go, but after trying several different spots, I don't feel a second heart beat. I suppose my doctors would have noticed…And I've been to a fair amount of them.  
But then again, if the Doctor is the last time lord, that means there are no other time lords except him, so _if_ he's my father…_what, who_, and _where_ is my mother?


	3. Precious Posessions

CAROL SPRING ~ A DOCTOR WHO FANFICTION

Written by Creek Hymn

* * *

I start going through my things – what should I take? What do I need? Honestly, I don't think I know the difference. I mean, I'm taking things with huge sentimental value with me, but things I really _should _take, like granola bars and blankets, I've tossed to the side without a second thought. Hang on – that was a lie. I suppose me telling you all about this is technically a second thought. Well, now that I've addressed that I gave it a second thought, I'm having a second thought about my second thought…So really this must be my third or fourth thought about it. I shake my head, clearing all the thoughts until only one remained: Pick out the most important things to take.  
And most important doesn't mean "necessary," no, it simply means what is important to _me. _For example, my book of dreams. Didn't I tell you about the book of dreams? Well, then…over time, in this book, I've written anything and everything I know, feel, or (possibly) remember about my past. Doodles of the TARDIS and the sonic screwdriver, though I didn't know what they were at the time; sketches of fezzes and bow ties; and even a couple very loosely-drawn doodles that my memory had conjured up of what my mother's and father's faces might be like. For some reason, it seems like I can draw my mother far more accurately than my father. In fact, I can't really remember my father at all. It's like I never even saw him, but I can still feel him, pulsing at the edge of my subconscious mind. He's there…I can feel it. It's like he's always nagging there, like a shy memory that's waiting for the right moment to show itself. My mother, however, was much easier to remember. Her face, I can't really seem to get right with my doodles – not that I really know what she looks like, anyway – but I can remember…oh, how do I explain it? I can remember…her heart. Her soul, like it's a part of me. I suppose it is, in a way, but I don't just mean physically or genetically. She is a part of my mind…Always lingering, like an angel watching over me.  
There were some written entries, too; dreams I'd had about anything from gun smoke fizzling away in the light of the TARDIS, to flirtatious, batting eyelashes and death – together. There is one particular entry I started when I was about 7, and developed it further with corrections and edits as I got older. It still isn't very clear – the story, I mean. Basically, all I can scrounge up from my memory is confused flirting, a kiss, random blurbs bouncing back and forth which might be more confused flirting – it confuses me, anyway – and then…death. I can't remember who it's about or if it's even a memory. It feels like…a dream, a story, like something you know probably happened because they taught you in history class, but you weren't actually there. There are so many things stashed away in the libraries of my subconscious, locked away…until I can find the key.  
Do I use metaphors a lot? Maybe too much? Nah, you can't use metaphors too much. Helps you see things from my perspective, right? Like a bee on a flower, looking down at the grass where the ants-  
Right. You get the idea. *Ahem*.  
Ah, what else would I need? I start going through my other possessions…though some of them aren't exactly _my_ possessions. They're in my room, and nobody has asked for them back, so…they're mine now, as far as I or anyone else is concerned. Going through my clothes, I pick out my favourites. The sparkly white tank top. The frilly, yellow sun dress. The stripy, apple-blue skirt. The fiery red tights. The green diamond-shaped earrings. The ring with the rainbow gem. My silver flat shoes. The blazing red shirt that matches the tights; though probably shouldn't be worn together. The pale orange slim fit shirt. The green dress with streaks of white and yellow. The dark blue jeans with narrow white stripes. The blue shirt with white polka-dots. Et cetera. I could go on and on about my favourite clothes, but the ugly faded brown and grey clothes the orphanage gives you to wear are just…just…no. I don't even know the last time I wore those. As soon as I had money of my own, I ditched those at the back of my drawers to foster mold, if they hadn't already. The shirts look like they were once white but stained with coffee, and the pants and skirts look like they once belonged to a disabled gay gypsy-  
Suddenly, I feel a new memory – well, an old memory reawakening – no, not a memory – a story – not a story…I touched my forehead as I felt a ray of blinding, pure light slice through my subconscious and then through my conscious thoughts and a new vision – memory – story – whatever it was, implanted itself in my head. That had never happened before. I sat there, cringing and whimpering for a few moments, before letting it creep into my forethoughts and beginning to analyze it. It was like a memory…that wasn't my own. But…how could that be? Why did it come just now? I felt a twinge in my mind at the memory, or whatever it was, settled in with my normal thoughts-  
Wait, none of my thoughts are normal.  
The story, memory, or whatever it was, felt connected to the other one I had written about in my book of dreams – the one with the flirting and death. It was like the words I had just thought, "disabled gay gypsy," had triggered it. They weren't my words…But yet they were…Somehow.  
I shake my head and continue looking for things to fill my little suitcase with, disregarding the new memory-story…thing, for now.  
There was the note…the note that was found with me, in my basket when I was found on the doorstep as a baby. The letters were clearly written by a woman; just the way they danced among each other and sang out the words' definition was an instant giveaway. The letters were written with great care but little time, like they were written in a hurry but whoever wrote it wanted to make sure it was clearly legible.  
"_Carol Spring"._  
I run my finger gently across the note, stained with the ink that hadn't yet faded away, and I can't help feeling a sense of…soulful magic. It was like I was touching the very thing that defined me – not just that, but what my mother had left to define me, and make sure my definition was very clear. It was almost like touching my mother's hand…but yet it isn't. Someday…someday I will. I will reach out, look up into those eyes, whatever colour they may be, and our hands will touch and in that moment we'll bond, mother-to-daughter – forever. And I won't let her go next time. I _will_ find her, and my dad, too, and I am _not_ going to let them go. I'll hang on to them with every shred of my mind, heart, and soul. Heck, I already am, and I don't even know what they look like.  
I tuck the note safely away in one of the side pockets and continue to look. I gather up nice earrings, necklaces and rings, doodles from when I was littler, my memory-dream book, oh, and my laptop. Well, not _my_ laptop. The laptop I found…took…_borrowed_. I borrowed it. I've always intended to give it ba-  
Who am I kidding? I have never intended to give anything back that I took. This thing is going to be the very _source_ of the _core_ of my life very soon, ha! I'm not giving it back. It's mine.  
Anyway, I'm getting distracted. I close the suitcase I'd put all of my valued possessions in and check myself in the mirror. Why, I don't really know. It's not like anyone really cares – I just wanted to. It felt natural to just want to look good and make a great escape altogether. I straightened out my moon blue slim fit shirt that was dazzled across the shoulders and chest with white gemstones, almost like someone had reached up and twisted a piece of the night out of the sky like one would twist an orange off of its branch, and spread it across my shirt. As for the bottom, I had a nice ruffle skirt; white with a touch of brown, the folds of the skirt swirling, fluttering around each other like lovebirds, and some bluish speckles at the bottom of the skirt, thick and close together at the bottom, but fading and fizzing away into the brownish-white as they rose up; dancing on the white like a song ringing out between them. I tuck my wavy brown hair up just the way I like it; though it's kind of flat and straight, I tease it a little and they fan out prettily, like feathers rather than hair. I bat my eyelashes in the mirror, blow a kiss to myself, and saunter off like the most epic, awesome person in the world – oh, but not before a quick smear of red-hot red lipstick, shimmery mascara and eyeshadow and bold eyeliner.  
Once I'm ready appearance-wise, I go through the plan in my mind several times again before I begin to put it forth. I brush away a plume of my feathery hair with a flick of my hand, put on burning star-white flat shoes, and make a popping sound with my mouth as I press my lips together to ensure the lipstick is evenly spread. I'm 12 years old and acting like I'm 24, but who cares? I'm freaking Carol Spring! I can do whatever the heck I want!  
With a confident sigh, I can't help feeling this isn't simply the way I am. I think I stole most of my traits from my parents. My mood is dripping with excitement and anxiety, and I walk up to the window and whisper, "Milky! Milky-Way! Here, kitty!" My fingers tap the window sill, a short rhythm that Milky-Way recognizes.  
A soft, "_Mrrow_," replies and the white-speckled black cat hops up onto my window sill like a butterfly landing on a flower. She starts to purr, and I give her a quick rub to the ears and shoulders before scooping her up. I had never brought her with me before, but I had never planned out my escape in this much detail before, either. The sun was beginning to slip away under the horizon as if to pull its hilly blanket over itself and dim the sky. Milky-Way _mrrowed_ again, looking at me with those big moon-eyes expectantly. I smiled, ruffled her starry fur, and bent down to be at her eye-level.  
"Sorry, Milky. No milk today. We're going on an adventure…forever, this time!"


	4. See Ya Later - Oh, Never Mind

CAROL SPRING ~ A DOCTOR WHO FANFICTION

Written by Creek Hymn

* * *

With my bag of…things in one hand and Milky-Way in the other, I prepare to make my great escape. This time, I will make it. I won't be caught. I know it. I can _feel_ it.  
I had waited patiently for 9:30pm to come and go as they came to make sure I was in bed, and finally, it is my moment. I'm surprised they haven't learned to put me in a room with no windows by now, or at least batten up the one I had. I guess they meant to since my last attempt, but now it's been a year and I suppose they've assumed that I grew out of it or something silly like that. There's a difference between giving up and being patient, but it's too late for them to learn that now!  
I gently but swiftly toss Milky-Way through the window so she can wait for me on the other side. I've never brought her on my escapes before, but I suppose the last times I tried to escape, I wasn't really prepared and so I felt like I wouldn't succeed, therefore not have the feeling of soon being very alone. This time, it feels like it will really happen – I will escape, and then I will run alone, so very alone, but at least I'll have a companion, because there's a huge difference between my past escape attempts and this one: This one isn't an attempt. I'm not going to try to escape. I _am _escaping. Forever.  
I toss my not-really-a-suitcase, more-of-a-shoulder-bag over, careful not to squash Milky with it. Now it's my turn. I have my hands pressed against the window sill, ready to support my weight as I climb up and over, but I feel like I'm missing something. I come back down and find a scrap piece of paper and a pen. I quickly jot out the letters, trying to make them pretty, yet tauntingly snide.  
_"See ya later!_  
_Oh, never mind._  
_~C.S."_  
I tape the note up to the glass of the window. Now I can leave. I slide through the window easily and land safely 3 or 4 feet below. Here's the fun part: running.  
I run. The moon, with her silver fingertips, touches the gemstones on my shoulders and makes them shine. Anybody watching would see blur of starlight, dancing upon the wind, until it – I – evaporated into the moonlit horizon.  
The yard of the orphanage is rather small. Only sections of us are allowed out at a time, and they can't bother to fix up any of the playground equipment, so nobody is really brave enough to play on it. The grass is ragged, brownish, and catches on my shoes, but I run through it like I'm walking over smooth cement. Milky-Way, still confident I have milk for her tonight, prances along behind me. I can only hope she won't abandon me when she discovers I don't actually have any treats for her.  
Once I get up to the fence, which is full of rotting holes, I simply push one of the planks over and walk over it like a teeter-totter. Milky-Way leaps over behind me, and then we continue to run.  
We run and we run, I don't know for how long, but we run. I had to switch my bag to the other shoulder quite a few times, because we ran for so long that it would start to get tired. By the time we stop running, and I can't not move another step, the sun is already starting to push back its hilly covers and yawn into the sky. My guess is that it's about 5:00am. We're supposed to wake up at the orphanage at 6:30am, and then go for breakfast at 7:15am. I'm usually late for breakfast, in defiance of their silly rules, so they probably won't realize I'm actually missing until at least 7:30am. I decide that I'll take a few minutes to rest and catch my breath, have a snack, and then keep running. Milky-Way purrs her way onto my lap, and I stroke her ears and shoulders. Again, she looks at me with those big moon eyes, but all I can say is, "Sorry, girl. I brought you for company, not to be your Meals-on-Wheels." Her ear twitches as if she understood, and leaves my lap to curl up for a nap a few feet away. We had stopped in an alley, so we should be able to hide until we've stocked back up on energy. I rustle through my bag for a chocolate bar. Not exactly breakfast, but it has lots of caffeine for energy and at least tastes good. What's the point of having taste buds if you don't eat stuff you like?  
I quietly peel the wrapper away and slowly slurp and nibble at it so that I have a steady flow of caffeine running through my veins and will hopefully last longer. When I'm finished, I lean back against the brick wall, still slightly exhausted, and close my eyes. It feels like it's only been seconds when I reawaken to Milky-Way, dropping a rat on my lap, telling me it has to have been at least 10 minutes - time enough for her to wake up, track it down, kill it, and bring it here. Most people would shriek and kick it away, but I smile, understanding she means it as a gift. I pick it up by the scruff and put it by her paws. "Thank you, but I already ate. Here, you have it," I tell her as if she understands every word I speak. She takes it back and nibbles on it for a while. Eventually, she tosses it to the side as if disgusted and leaves the rest of it to rot, or possibly for pigeons – or both.  
I lean back again, almost ready to get up and keep going, when Milky's ears perk up and she looks all around her. At first, I assume it's just another rat scuttling along that sparked her interest, but when she stiffens up, spikey-furred and claws unsheathed, hissing and swatting, I know it can't be just a rat. She looks at me; her pupils tiny slits that I can barely see, and then she darts off in the opposite direction of whatever she heard. "Milky! Come back!"  
She doesn't listen this time. I try snapping my fingers in a rhythm she would recognize, the pattern I use to call her to my window sill, but she is already long gone. I feel terribly alone, yet completely not alone. Now it's my turn for my eyes to dart and my pupils to shrink. I stand up, with a rock in my hand – more of stone, really – and get ready to run. Before I can think, I feel a ripping sensation tear down my leg. I collapse to the ground and see my attacker: A stray dog, no specific breed, probably rabid-  
"_Aaaeeeaaaaahhh!"_ I scream like I've never screamed before as the dog lunges at me, now that I'm vulnerably half-laying, half-sitting on the ground. Blood and dusty gravel mix in a pool around me and infect my wounds. More and more wounds strike me, and the dog continues to use his rabid teeth to tear my flesh away from my bones. I collapse further, from my previous position of legs bent out to the side and arms holding me up, to all the way to the ground, cheeks scratched by the broken rocks; arms and legs splayed out in awkward positions to the sides. Blood-scent taints the air. With one last act of force, I struggle to my knees, grab the dog's throat and rip it back with all of my might. His flesh breaks loose and blood begins to pour from his own body. He crumbles to the ground and is dead within a minute or two. As for me, I struggle to get back to my feet. Clawing at the bricks on the wall for a grip is all I can do to even get halfway back up to a standing position. All of my left leg is torn and stained red with blood, and my other leg shakes, trying to support my body. One of my arms is completely limp; the dog had torn at my shoulder until it felt like my arm was hanging off my body like an earring with hang off an ear. With one arm and one leg still working, I claw my way up to a standing position, but I'm only up for a second before shaking to the point of falling again to my knees. My breathing is heavy and drawn out; it feels like my lungs have been cut open and I am trying to breathe through blood and dust. I try with every bit of my life force to keep myself alive, but I am so weak now that I can hardly even whimper in pain.  
"_M-Milky…W-Way…_" I call for her, my only lifeline. I manage to a hold on for another agonizing minute, but with every heartbeat, another few hundred blood cells have pooled around me. Milky-Way warily peeks around the corner, twitches her nose, and runs to me, probably at the scent of my blood. "Y-You have…go…" I whisper, clinging to the cliff of life in fear of falling into the pit of death below. "Go…_help…_" Milky's whiskers twitch, and she bounds off again. My eyelids won't even stay open anymore, and I find myself once again flat on the ground in an ever-expanding pool of blood.  
I suddenly snort, finding it harder to breathe. I…I can't…  
_I. Can't. Breathe._  
I can't breathe._ I can't breathe._ I can't breathe! My throat is clogged with blood, and probably my lungs, too. I can't feel the wounds anymore. I can't feel anything…just my thoughts, still pulsing in my mind. I make strained gurgling sounds as I try to force the blood out of my throat in a desperate attempt to breathe, but they're soon cut off. The air can't reach my lungs anymore. I really _can't_ breathe. My only hope is that Milky will find help before it's too late…  
But I think it already is.


	5. Doctor Who?

CAROL SPRING ~ A DOCTOR WHO FANFICTION

Written by Creek Hymn

* * *

Everything is black.  
The only light is my memories, beaming through death's shadow.  
I feel a twinge in my spine. Then another, further up. It's tingling now. My entire spine is tingling. The tingling feeling spreads until my arms and legs are all tingly, and my head is full of tingles. Is this what it feels like…to go to heaven? Tingly?  
It's starting to hurt. It feels like a lightning volcano is rumbling at the core of my being. _"AGH!"_ A sharp stab from the inside, like the lightning volcano is erupting, hits me. It feels like I'm imploding. Tears fill my eyes, my hands balled into fists, my head down. The lightning feeling flourishes from the heart of my soul, reaching out from the innermost part of my being to the very edges of my physical form. It spreads further yet. The pain I felt before is leaving, but a new kind of pain is replacing it. It's a like a magical pain…a horrible, wonderful, agonizing, pleasing pain. I feel myself stiffening up more and more, until I am forced to stand up. Even my neck thrusts my own head back, and my arms explode out from my sides. Tears burn my vision, strange, golden tears. I look out at my outstretched arms and see sparkling golden fog, twisting and cascading around me. It seems to be coming _from_ me.  
"_Eeyah!"_  
I'm exploding. I'm imploding. My skin is burning. My bones are rattling. My mind is spinning. My heart is pounding. I want to stay quiet but an agonized shriek is thrust out of my lungs, which only minutes ago, couldn't bear a word.  
Suddenly, I'm released. The stiffness disappears and I fall to the ground. I blink away the golden tears, and begin to examine my wounds.  
Wait a minute…what wounds? I check my whole body, but not even the slightest scratch remains. What has just happened? I must be dreaming. No, _nightmaring._  
The blood that had been pooled all around me is gone. Evaporated, disintegrated, I don't know, but it's gone. The dog's corpse still looms, its shadow casting itself past mine. My shoulder bag is still intact a few feet away. I stand up again. What? I stand up, but I feel…taller. _Taller_. How is that possible? My clothes don't seem to fit quite right. I touch my hair…and it's…_different._ Curly. _Curly._ Thick and curly. I stroke each arm with the opposite, fascinated and confused. My arms are longer; nicer. My legs are healed completely and all of my skin is smoother than smooth, as if it never bore a single bruise, cut, or scar. I keep squishing my face like a grandma pinching her grandkids' cheeks. It feels different. Rounder, maybe; not plumper, simply rounder. My hands find their way to my chest.  
_WHAT IN THE NAME OF EVERYTHING HAPPENED THERE?!_  
All I can say is that my bra certainly doesn't fit anymore.  
I have to find a mirror, a reflection, _something_. This can't really be happening. I was just dying…and now I'm suddenly a new person.  
Then it hits me. Reincarnation! I've reincarnated into another body! But then…Why am I not a newborn child in the arms of a brand-new mother? And what was the golden light all around me? Why am I in the same place; where was my previous body's corpse? And why was my blood all soaked up? No, this wasn't reincarnation. Something different. Something far more spectacular.  
I swing my shoulder bag over my shoulder with renewed strength; in fact, it wasn't just renewed strength, but a completely new strength I've never had before. It would take some getting used to. I start running, but then I realize that if my appearance has changed, I don't need to run. Ha! They'll never find me now! I can have a new life, and I don't have to run!  
I make my way towards a coffee shop across the street, and look at myself in the reflection of the window. Still brown hair, though a lighter shade; bouncy curls dancing upon my shoulders; a nice…_ahem_, chest…About 3, maybe 4 inches gained in height; still blue eyes; smooth, baby-like skin…I look _nice_.  
I realize a worker in the coffee shop is staring at me. I see a sign on the window that says, "Free Wi-Fi," so I quickly leave the window and come inside. I sit down at a table, though my steering seems a bit off and I'm not used to my new height of about 5'6". And I didn't really _sit_ down, I kind of fell into the chair. The lady in the shop probably thinks I'm on drugs, but screw her. It's none of her business…ha, whatever "business" even _is. _I pull my laptop out of my bag and try to figure out what just happened to me. I stare at the search bar for a few minutes before I come up with simply, "dying and changing". The results I get are 'reincarnation this,' 'reincarnation that,' but nothing I hadn't already thought of. Hmm…I wonder…If this "Doctor" really _is_ my dad, maybe he does this too…dies and changes, that is. Next, I search up, "the Doctor reincarnation".  
The page explodes with results. Again, because I'm am just that freaking cool, I pick the Wikipedia link for, "Regeneration".  
"_Regeneration is a term used for an alien race called time lords. The Doctor is the last known time lord (see "The Doctor – Time Lord" for more info). The information on this page is based on some eyewitness accounts and legends._

_When a time lord like the Doctor dies, he explodes into a burning, golden, flaming being, hardly humanlike. Then the golden light evaporates and a new man; new face, new body, slightly new personality, steps through. His old body dies and he is saved by getting a completely new one. It is said that time lords can regenerate up to a total of 13 times, with a total of 14 possible incarnations._

_When the Doctor was last seen, he was believed to have used 10 regenerations; therefore is in his 11th incarnation…"_  
My mind is raging with confusion and excitement. What was described on the page is exactly what I felt and experienced…this Doctor _has_ to be my father, that is, unless he really isn't the last time lord, and there is someone else. I highly doubt that, though.  
My thoughts are interrupted when I hear wailing sirens outside. My heart starts racing, but then I realize that the police wouldn't recognize me. I'm in the clear. The sirens continue on and evaporate into silence as they scream into the distance, and I'm left again with my thoughts.  
Regeneration…So does this mean I can regenerate 12 more times? How does this work? Will I age between regenerations, or will I just have the same face until I die - er, regenerate again? Can I die of old age, but not have an old face? All of this confuses me, but the Wikipedia page tells me nothing more. None of the other pages that popped up on Google search were much help, either. I sit there, scratching my head, wondering what to do next.  
I get up from the table, realizing my clothes weren't bathed of damage like my body was. It is a maze of rips, tears, seam breaks, and holes. In the corner of the coffee shop, I can see some racks of clothing. They aren't exactly designer clothes like the ones I normally buy, but a couple things catch my eye. I walk towards them, still in an awkward strut. It will take a while to learn how to steer this thing - listen to me, calling my own body a 'thing'. I smile to myself.  
Once I've made it over to the racks, I start combing through them for anything decent. I suppress a girly, "Oooooh!" when I find a cute, pleated green skirt. Picking it off the rack and holding it against my pelvis, it seems like a good fit. The pleats twirl playfully as the skirt does, though I probably shouldn't do too much spinning in it, seeing as the bottom of it only reaches a few inches above my knees.  
I roam about the other racks, searching for a shirt to go with it. I decide on a slim-fit warm yellow tee, and together with the skirt, the outfit looks rather springy. Perfect for Carol Spring! I bring the outfit up to the worker that had been staring at me before. Without a word, she scans them for prices, pops them in a bag and looks at me expectantly. I realize what she's waiting for and dive into my shoulder bag for money. I hand her the cash, and in exchange she hands me my new outfit. I go into the shop's bathroom to get changed. I study myself in the mirror. I giggle, though I'm not sure why, and leave the bathroom to return to my table and research further.  
Before I can, I see something out of the corner of my eye. A silhouette outside the coffee shop… a feline. Is that Milky-Way? A flood of relief washes over me, and I run to the door to let her in. "Milky-Way! You came back!" Then I realize that she doesn't recognize me. I kneel down and let her sniff me. "It's me. See? Look into my eyes. It's _me_," I whisper. A voice behind me surprises me.  
"Excuse me, miss, but no animals are allowed in the shop." She gestures to the sign on the door; a picture of a dog with a big red X through it. I can't help seeing it as the dog that attacked me, and the red X as blood.  
"_That_ is a dog," I reply. The lady blinks. "What?"  
"The sign. It says no _dogs_. Technically, it doesn't even say that. Just 'dog X'," I explain. The lady blinks again.  
"No, miss, see-"  
"I know what it means," I grumble, folding my laptop shut, shoving it into my bag, scooping up Milky-Way and heading outside.  
I sit down just outside the coffee shop, in a spot where my new skirt won't get terribly dirtied. The Wi-Fi still reaches out here, so I open my laptop up again. Milky-Way tries to come up on my lap, seemingly trusting that I was the girl she knew and loved before. She walks all over the keyboard so I have to pick her up and put her by my side. "Sorry, girl. Only room for one laptop at a time!" I ruffle the fur on her head and go back to my computing. Almost convinced that this Doctor is somehow related to me, I'm wondering how I will find him. After all, he does have a machine that can go anywhere and anywhen, so what are the chances I'll just run into him in town? I decide to search up, "how to find the Doctor". I press the, "Go" button, and the page starts loading. It loads and loads and loads, scrounging the deepest reaches of the internet for any results. At first, I thought it was just the Wi-Fi being slow because I wasn't right in the heart of it anymore. But finally, after about a minute of loading, a little message pops up where the results should be. "_No results found. Try refining your search."_  
Great. Now what am I going to do? I pack up my laptop and begin to walk, Milky-Way at my heels. What am I going to have to do to find my parents – to find this…"Doctor"?


	6. The Time Traveler's Wife

CAROL SPRING ~ A DOCTOR WHO FANFICTION

Written by Creek Hymn

* * *

I'm sitting by the coffee shop again, just outside the doors, Milky-Way purring at my side. I take out my laptop again for the first time in two days. Yesterday, I just walked around with Milky, pondering; going through all the information in my head. No matter how hard I thought, I couldn't come up with any other way to find the Doctor than to hope…and wait. There _has_ to be a way to communicate with him. I mean, he travels through all of time and space – he has to have _some_ friends, and those friends _must_ have a way to contact him. For now, I'll do more research about him, see if I can find something helpful.

First, I decide to look further into the details of the TARDIS. The results pop up one by one, and I have to choose the right ones otherwise I wouldn't be learning anything new. My eyes flit from side to side as I read through the pages of results, and…Hold on. B...  
B-Bigger on the inside? But…it's just...a blue box.  
Oh, who am I kidding? It is most definitely _not_ just a blue box. It's a time machine from an alien planet with alien technology and alien physics. I suppose they've already figured out how to safe space efficiently. Maybe one day…I'll get to see for myself. I'll see that beautiful blue police box, small and unnoticed by other people, and I'll step in and see a whole new world inside. My heart will skip a beat…and I'll laugh excited screams, knowing that I've finally made it…  
_Snap out of it, Carol,_ I tell myself. Maybe one day I will get to see it, but that's then, and this is now. I've got to focus on finding that seemingly simple yet confusing box.  
Next, I decide to look into what the sonic screwdriver is all about. Pages and pages of results load, but again it's up to me to pick the most promising ones. Apparently, the Doctor has had many sonic screwdrivers since his first incarnation. From oldest to newest, they range from a simple silver stick with a light on the end to a much more complex, yet sleek and attractively designed tool of, quite literally, all trades. Even the colour of the lights change – the three known newest ones range from blue, to green, to red. There aren't any real pictures, just illustrations and descriptions, but given my mind and lifestyle, it's not hard for me to conjure up an image of something I've never seen or heard of.  
Oh, and apparently, it_ "doesn't do wood"_.  
So far, I haven't learned much – or at least, not anything that is all that helpful. Sure, it's cool to know about the TARDIS and the screwdriver, but those things aren't going to help me find the Doctor…at least, not as far as I know.  
I realize that the Doctor must not just travel alone. He travels to all those places and times, and like I've already pointed out, he _must_ make friends. There's no way someone wouldn't ask to come with him, or maybe vice versa – he probably gets lonely in that little, huge time machine of his, and I doubt he's resisted asking anyone to come with him. Maybe Google will have something about it. This time, I try searching, "The Doctor's friends". That's no use. I get weird, oddly colourful pages of children's hospitals which seem to have perverted undertones. _*Ahem*._  
I'm about to click back on the search bar to refine my search when I see the last result on the page: "Who has traveled in the TARDIS?"  
I click on it immediately, and the page reveals a long list of names and even some pictures. The list is introduced with a short paragraph:  
"_I'm sure if you've made it to this page, you already know who the Doctor is, so I'm not going to get into that. The Doctor, as you know, has his huge TARDIS, and he can't keep it to himself. It would be far too lonely. He has made many friends in his travels, though not all get the privilege to go for a spin in the TARDIS, many have. He doesn't let just anybody into the TARDIS – that's why he calls the ones special enough to see inside his 'companions'. Below is a list of all known companions of the Doctor and the TARDIS."_  
I scroll down, and see name after name, picture after picture, story after story of everyone that has been on adventures in the TARDIS. First, there's Susan Foreman, his-  
What?! _Granddaughter?_ I'm not sure what to make of this. I…what? So, if I _am_ his daughter, then, does that mean – because of the time travel and all – that I will have a kid someday? Or did he have a daughter before?  
I shake my head and examine the picture. It's in black and white, and unless I find the Doctor, and he drops me in the 1960's and have a kid then, there's no way that could be my daughter. Of all the names in the universe, I certainly wouldn't choose _Susan_. Boring old Susan, to go with plain old Foreman.  
It says that Susan is the only known relative of the Doctor, so I decide to skip through the boring old back-stories of the Doctor's companions from his 1st to 9th incarnation. I want something more recent – after all, I'm looking for the most recent Doctor. His 9th incarnation only shows 3 companions: Rose Tyler, Adam Mitchell, and Captain Jack Harkness. Rose Tyler is a pretty ordinary girl, according to the description – that is, she was, until she looked into the time vortex and did some crazy stuff that I yawn and skip through. I stop at the part where it says she brought Jack Harkness back to life after he had died, and then he was immortal. Okay. At this point, I've learned to disregard that sort of thing...like yesterday's newspaper. Jack didn't travel with the Doctor for long, though he does reappear when the Doctor has reached his 10th incarnation. Adam Mitchell only went on one adventure with the Doctor, and then some crap happened and…blah…blah…blah.  
Rose Tyler traveled for a long time, right on through from 9th incarnation to 10th, and was only separated from him because she was sucked into a parallel universe…twice, apparently. Honestly, I don't really care, so I skip the rest of her story and move on to Martha Jones. I skim through the summary quickly – and slow down when I realize it seems like she _liked_ the Doctor…or, if you're British, "fancied" him. Could she be…? No. I keep going and it becomes very apparent that the Doctor wanted nothing from her except her company in the TARDIS. She was eventually overwhelmed by the intensity of their adventures and went home, leaving the Doctor. I don't know how anyone could simply leave him, but I suppose it was her choice.  
Next is Donna Noble. Again, it catches my attention that she met the Doctor as a bride, but I quickly realize that she wasn't _his_ bride…I read through the story, and confused halfway through the first paragraph, I just skip the rest and read the end. Cut-off hand. She touched hand. Meta-crisis. Memory wiped. Gone.  
…Kay.

Just…  
Yeah.  
...Finally, the 11th Doctor's companions: Amy Pond, Rory Williams, and River Song. I skip Amy and Rory's stories upon realizing that they're a married couple. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm looking for a potential mother to my potential father, not learning the history of random people I'll need to know about as much as I need to know how to extract genetic matter from a strawberry.  
River Song's description catches my attention. According to her description, she is also a time traveler, but travels in the opposite direction as the Doctor, so they always meet in the wrong order. The Doctor spent ages not knowing who she was – quite literally. River Song is in a high-security prison called Stormcage, convicted of the murder of "a very good man". Oh…murder of…the Doctor? I'm sorry…what?  
As I continue to read, the story becomes much clearer. Well, not exactly, but it makes sense in a way that doesn't make sense. An example would be about how much sense that last sentence made.  
My heart nearly stopped when it said she is, in fact, the Doctor's wife. It was explained earlier that she had time lord DNA fused into her genetics before she was even born, and she could regenerate just like the Doctor, except that she killed him and saved his life by using up all of her remaining regenerations. Her real name is Melody Pond, after Amy Pond, but she uses the name River Song to conceal her identity, or, as she puts it, "spoilers".  
This has to be it.  
River Song and the Doctor have _got _to be my parents.


	7. Psychic

CAROL SPRING ~ A DOCTOR WHO FANFICTION

Written by Creek Hymn

* * *

I had fallen asleep there, against the window of the coffee shop. I'm surprised they didn't shoo me and Milky away, but I got the best sleep I've had in a while, even if my limbs were now all sore. Well, technically they've been a bit sore ever since I regenerated – wow, I like how casually I just say that now – but they are _really_ sore now. Speaking of regenerating, there are, apparently, side effects. I think they've worn off now, but for the first day or so after it happened, I breathed out this cloud of golden dust, like the light that surrounded me while I was changing. Luckily it was when I was on my walk with Milky-Way, so I was alone – except for Milky, of course – and nobody saw. Not only that, but I would get occasional twinges of pain…well, not exactly pain, just kind of like a nice feeling that is so intense it hurts. Like…a bee stinging you with a stinger made of honey…or something like that.  
Anyway, I've got more research to do. If I'm going to find the Doctor, I'm going to have do everything I can – I know, not from the internet – that you're lucky if you look for him and do find him, and _extremely_ lucky if he just happens to cross paths with you. Strangely, it seems like people just happen to cross paths with him more so than they search for and find him. That can't be good…  
I hook my fingers over the top part of the folded laptop and pry it open. Again, I start clicking away onto the internet. For once, I know immediately what I want to search. "_Doctor TARDIS communication"_ is what I type in. I've figured out that if you put the words "Doctor" and "TARDIS" together, you'll almost always get the results you're looking for.  
I scroll through the results until I see a page titled, "How does the Doctor communicate?"  
Turns out, it was the same website that had the, "Who has traveled in the TARDIS?" page. I decide to bookmark the website, because I have a feeling it will come in handy.  
The page, like the other one, has a short paragraph of an introduction. Something about "The Doctor has friends," blah, blah, blah, "He must communicate somehow," blah, blah, blah, "Here's how," blah, blah, bl-  
Wait, how? How does he communicate?!  
"_The TARDIS __is__ a telephone booth, so you would expect there to be a phone. Of course there's a phone! But it's not the fake one that is part of the Police Box disguise. The real phone is inside the TARDIS, it's just a matter of knowing the number. Unfortunately, the number is unknown to most people."  
_Well, _that's_ sure helpful! Not.  
I scroll to the next paragraph that lists other ways people have gotten messages to him:  
"_He once received a time lord mail cube from outside the universe, though it drew him into a trap and some crazy crap happened…"_  
Okay, that's not really what it said, but that's how it registered in my brain.  
"_Another way people have called him to them for help is through his psychic paper. Usually, the Doctor uses the psychic paper for getting access to places that would normally be really difficult to get into. The psychic paper is blank to the user, but when the user shows it to the intended security guard or whoever is questioning his identity, it shows qualifications of all and any sorts, depending on what the Doctor (or whoever is using it) wishes them to see. On some occasions, though, the Doctor has been summoned by receiving a message on the psychic paper. No one really knows how it is done, but it seems to carry a pattern that the person trying to get a message through has to be connected to the Doctor somehow, or possess a strong form of mental energy."_  
That was it. That was how I would do it. Basically, it said, "You have to wish really hard," and that's exactly what I would do. I crouch by Milky-Way and close my eyes, imagining I can see my message appearing on the psychic paper. It takes me a minute to feel like I'm really speaking when I'm only using my inner voice, but once I'm used to it, I begin narrating my letter. It couldn't be too long; it had to be to the point...but it had to be enough to get his attention.  
"_Doctor…I need you…"_  
What else could I say? There had to be something else.  
"_Come to-"_  
Where do I live again? I've been trying to escape for so long, I've discarded the name from my memory. After a moment, the name comes to mind.  
"_-Pinna, Flambroisia…Earth. The Solar System. The Milky Way."_  
Then I imagine erasing the last part.  
"_Pinna, Flambroisia, Earth."_  
At the end, I picture the same signature I had made on my escape letter: _C.S._ I go through the whole thing in my head a few more times, just to make sure the message is clear if it even gets through at all.  
_"Doctor…I need you. Come to Pinna, Flambroisia, Earth. ~C.S."_  
Oh, didn't I mention it before? Yeah, I live in a town called Pinna. Well, it's hardly even a town. More of a large village. Or a really tiny city. Or maybe a community of-  
Oh, you get the idea. And Flambroisia? It's the name of the…what do I even call it? The…area, of villages, that we live in. Like a province or a state, except nobody really knows about it and we're probably not even on the map, but I'm sure the Doctor will be able to figure out where I am. That is, if he gets the message on the psychic paper. All there is to do now is wait. I plop down next to Milky-Way after having been on my knees with my head tilted towards the sky, and put my laptop away. I eat another chocolate bar and start waiting.  
And waiting.  
…and waiting.


	8. Songs, Melodies, and Carols

CAROL SPRING ~ A DOCTOR WHO FANFICTION

Written by Creek Hymn

* * *

I watch in disappointment as the sun's last rays clinging to the sky slip away. I waited all day, but no sign of the Doctor anywhere. I kept telling myself. I kept telling myself not to get my hopes up; that if the Doctor even _is_ real, it would still take him some time to get my message and then more still to find me, specifically.  
It's so hard; waiting. I thought it would be easy - days flipping by like the pages of an old book, battered by the wind. My life used to be so...full, before. I would have school, and I would be thinking about that. Then I would go to my room for a couple of hours and have supper. Then I would be in my room again for hours, either alone with my thoughts - which at that point were countless and confusing - or with Milky-Way. Now, it just feels like...nothing. Nothing else is important enough to worry about or waste time wondering or getting excited about. The most important thing right now is that he comes - that _someone_ comes. Anyone that understands; it doesn't even have to be the Doctor. Just someone who knows how I feel, like they'd had a peek inside my mind or I theirs.  
I try to distract myself by playing games on my laptop. I got so desperate to the point where I actually played Solitaire. I am not kidding. Solitaire! Might as well have a thumb war with myself or try to teach Milky-Way to play Hide-and-Seek. I'm soon fed up with that - playing Solitaire, I mean - so I try something I've never dared do before. Something I often wondered about, something I've only heard people talk about, but never even considered doing it myself. It is either one of the most useful or nightmarish things a person could possibly subject themselves to.  
I am making a Facebook account.  
Within 10 minutes of having it, I can't think of one single person I'd like to search up and add as a friend. I try liking some pages, but they post far too much and half of it is annoying or has nothing to do with the actual page, and more so about the admins' social lives.  
It doesn't take me long to get fed up with that, so I delete my account. There must be some other websites I can join...or something. I shudder when I realize that my only other choice that might be slightly enjoyable to me is - the site that is one step further away from having a life than Facebook - _Tumblr._  
I start to make an account, but apparently I can't use my real name. Come on, Carol Spring is a pretty darn cool name! Maybe I could change it somehow, like a code name. Maybe...Carly Sprout? No, that's horrible. I could spell my name backwards - Gnirps Lorac...No. That sounds like the name of an evil cat elf gym teacher.  
Me, Carol Spring, after all I've been through, can't even come up with a decent username for Tumblr. Maybe, somehow, I could translate my name-  
Then I remember something. Something from River Song's bio: "_River Song was not born with that name. She was born Melody Pond, to Amy Pond. River Song became her code name as soon as she found out who she was herself, to prevent spoilers. The name came from a gift of sympathy that was given to Amy Pond when her baby was taken away from her: The name of her daughter translated from an alien language. Since the people that used this language lived in a forest where 'the only water in the forest is the river,' they don't have a word for pond, so it translates to 'River', and 'Melody' simply translates to 'Song'."_  
I was right. I was so much more right than I ever thought I could be when I knew that my mother left that note with my name on it to represent who I am.  
I am Carol Spring. But listen to my name, really listen. Carol - not Carly, not Caroline, but Carol; like a Christmas carol. A melody. A _song._  
And Spring? Not the season, and most definitely not the verb. It means 'Spring' as in a spring of water - a pond. A _river._  
There is no way this is a coincidence. What is a coincidence, anyway? Are coincidences real, or are they just another myth humans have conjured up to explain something they can't really understand?  
Ha, listen to me. Calling them humans as if I'm not one of them. But it's true - even if I am purely human blood, I'm _not_ one of them. I'm far more different, far more unique. Hate to break it to you -well, actually, I don't - but that's me. What other 'human' can explode into a soul-wrenching burst of fire that actually _heals_ their wounds and transforms their bodies?  
My thoughts begin to bubble away as I close my eyes, and a black tide pulls me into the depths of sleep.

_Sheeroop. Bashheerp. Oooweeoorrp. _  
I wake up to the sound I've only seen the loosest of descriptions of...  
…the sound that is so hard to explain…  
…the sound that has always shunned in the shadows of my mind...  
...A most unmistakable sound, even to someone who hasn't heard it before -  
Could that be the sound of the TARDIS?


	9. Come Along, Spring

CAROL SPRING ~ A DOCTOR WHO FANFICTION

Written by Creek Hymn

* * *

I start running – running faster, harder, and with more determination than I have ever run before. My thoughts whisper the word and it echoes off the walls of my mind. _Run._

I don't even notice Milky struggling to keep up behind me – all my thoughts are focused on finding the source of that sound. I had even left my laptop on the ground by the coffee shop, but luckily my shoulder bag was already around my shoulder.  
_Vreeeorp. Bzjjeeeoorp. Shhreeoorp._  
Is that it? I squint, still running, to make out the shape in the distance; just a silhouette blinking in and out.  
It has to be it.  
The sound gets louder and louder, and I can now definitely tell-  
The sign on it says, "Police Box".  
_Pzzeew._  
Then a high-pitched sound chirps out of the TARDIS and ringing between the stars in the universe.  
I nearly forgot to stop running and skid to a halt just inches before the door. Here it is – right in front of me.  
The box that whispered in my memories my whole life.  
The box that I had only dreamed of.  
The blue, bigger-on-the-inside box.  
Milky-Way catches up behind me and meows curiously. My excitement subconsciously causes me to ignore her, and I'm about to barge in through the doors of the TARDIS to see if it really _is_ bigger on the inside when I realize that wouldn't exactly make a good impression. Instead, I tap lightly on the door.  
The door squeaks, but I hardly notice. I'm focusing on the face that will appear through the door.  
The door creaks open, and the crack between door and door frame widens, along with my eyes. A shadowed face stares down at me, and I stare up at it. The door opens all the way to let the light reveal the face – the face I had been waiting for. The face that whispered in my memories my whole life. The face I had only dreamed - Hold on, I already did that.  
Light falls upon that face…that face I had patiently yet impatiently waited for. Two hazel eyes flit across my face, examining my features as I examine theirs.  
…What?  
The face that greeted me belonged to… a woman.  
"Well, hello there, little girl," the red-haired woman says to me. I immediately flame at her, "I'm not little," but the way I said it made me seem even littler than I am. The red-haired woman has an accent – a Scottish accent. "How old are you?" she asks.  
"Twelve," I reply. I try to see inside the TARDIS behind her. "Is…he here?" I can't bring myself to say his name. The woman tilts her head at me and looks intrigued by my question. "Do you mean…the Doctor?"  
My heart ruptures in excitement of finding someone; someone who understands. "Yes!" I reply, my voice half an octave higher than normal.  
"Doctor who?"  
Another voice comes from behind the woman. I peer behind her and see a man – a man with a tweed jacket, suspenders, a bow tie, and admittedly cool hair. My eyes widen and I take a step back in shock. I _know _it's him.  
"It's…you!" is all I can bring myself to say.  
"Yes, me, the Doctor – well, that's not my real name, but that's what they call me. 'They' being people. People call me the Doctor. I call me the Doctor. Doctor who? Nobody knows. I barely know at this point and-"  
I tumble forward and hug him without a second thought. His utter quirkiness; his stance; even the way he dressed – It's him. _Him._  
"Okay, hugging now," he says with somewhat of a tone of surprise in his voice.  
"Doctor, who is she?" the woman asks. I release my tight embrace on the Doctor and look at her to reply. "Carol…I'm Carol Spring."  
The woman smiles. "That's a lovely name. I'm Amy. Amy Pond," she replies. Amy! How did I not recognize her? Well, I kind of skipped her when I was looking through the companions on the internet…_Sorry, Amy_, I think to myself. So much for needing to know about her about as much as I would need to know how to extract genetic matter from a strawberry.  
"So, Carol, how did you send me a message on the psychic paper? You said you needed me. What for?" The Doctor asks.  
"I…uh…" I can't exactly just come out and be all like, '_I think I'm your long lost daughter!', _so instead I say, "Do...Do you know River Song?"  
Amy and the Doctor look at each other. "Y-Yes," the Doctor stammers, "do you?"  
I hesitate. "I've been looking for her…and you. Together. You and her…" I trail off to avoid my sentence getting more awkward than it already is. I look up at the Doctor shyly. I've never felt this before – shyness. And is that a blush I see creeping into his cheeks? I can see Amy with a smug grin painted over her earlier warm, friendly expression out of the corner of my eye. The Doctor nervously clears his throat. "Yes, well, she…is…not here." He scratches his neck awkwardly and clears his throat unnecessarily.  
"I know…She's at Stormcage," I reply. His blush fades and he asks, "How do you know that?"  
"A little something called the internet." My shyness fades along with his blush.  
"See, Doctor, I told you people are going to start stalking you with their new technology," Amy points out.  
"Ha! They already do," the Doctor mutters, turning his attention back to me. "But it can't have been easy," he says to me.  
"No, it took me ages to find a good website. And even it doesn't have very much information," I reply. The Doctor smiles. "Hm, trust me, it did not take you _ages_. You would be dead if it took you ages…unless you were a time lord, like me and-" he stops mid-sentence. Did he just figure it out? That fast? He couldn't have. He gaze hardens and he leans down, closer to me. "Who _are_ you?"  
"You thought you were done asking that when you found out who River Song is," I reply. He stands up straight again, face muddled with confusion.  
"Yes..." he trails off and spins around towards the TARDIS console. "Come along, Pond," he calls to Amy. Amy looks at me. "I'll be right back," she promises, and walks over to the Doctor. I stand outside the TARDIS, wary of going inside. It felt like I wasn't welcome inside…yet.

The Doctor's thoughts were raging throughout his mind in only the way a time lord's thoughts could. It was quite accurately a brain storm. "Doctor, what are you doing?" Amy asks. He doesn't respond and flips a switch on the TARDIS console. Amy reaches out to touch his hand, stopping him from fiddling anymore. "Doctor, talk to me. Who is that girl? Why were you so surprised that she knew about River Song? I mean, with the internet and all-"  
"She didn't just know _about_ River Song. She spoke like she was a part of her – like she _knew _her. There's something about her…" the Doctor couldn't put his finger on it."Well, we can't just leave her standing there alone outside," Amy replies. The Doctor starts pressing more buttons and pulling more levers. Amy, more violently this time, grabs his arm and pulls it away from the console.  
"Don't you dare." She glares at him. "Don't you want to know who she is?"  
The Doctor sighs. "Yes. Of course. But if she's connected to River Song…it will be trouble."  
Amy laughs. "And when has that ever stopped you?"  
The Doctor looks up at Amy. His mouth forms a smile, and he walks back towards the doors of the TARDIS. He turns his body sideways and spreads his arms out to welcome the girl into the time machine.  
"Come along, then, Spring."


	10. Who Am I?

CAROL SPRING ~ A DOCTOR WHO FANFICTION

Written by Creek Hymn

* * *

The TARDIS whirrs and shakes as it takes off into the time vortex. I lose my balance a few times, and quickly learn it's a good idea to hold the rail around the console room.  
"Don't you…ah! …Know how to…drive this?!" I yell, stumbling frequently, over the wailing TARDIS.  
"Well it _is_ a time machine meant to be flown by several people that actually _passed_ Driver's Ed.!" The Doctor yells back, holding on to various parts of the console and continuing to pull levers and press buttons.  
Another man stumbles out of the hallway and screams, "What is going on?!"  
"Rory," the Doctor exclaims, "you're awake!" The TARDIS hiccups again and Rory falls forward into the TARDIS console.  
"Rory!" Amy cries, running over to him. So that's Rory – I didn't read much about him, either. All I know is that he's Amy's husband. "Are you okay?" she asks worriedly.  
"Amy, I've died who knows how many times, been wiped out of existence, became The Last Centurion and waited two thousand years for you. What do you think?" Rory asks rhetorically. Amy simply laughs, and we stumble again, the TARDIS grinding her way through more time vortex turbulence.  
"Where are we going?" Amy asks loudly.  
"To get River!" The Doctor answers back, equally loud. I'm thrown forward as the TARDIS lurches to a halt and stabilizes, making the journey much more endurable. I let out a sigh of relief and sit down, legs hanging over the edge of the glass floor.  
Amy walks over to me and sits beside me. "The Doctor thinks you know more about River Song than you're letting on," she says, hinting for me to give away all my secrets. I feel a sudden trust bond with Amy…I can't really explain it. She just seemed like the right person to spill everything out to and still keep it all a secret until I'm ready for everyone else to know.  
"River Song and the Doctor…are they…?"  
Amy knows what I'm asking. "Married," she finishes for me. "Well, it's kind of complicated. There was this whole time-explosion thing…then we were in a pyramid…then they got married…and time sort of, rebooted," Amy explains. I actually think I understand what she said, even though she didn't really seem to understand what she said.  
"What about you and Rory? You're married, too?" I ask, just to make sure I've got my facts right.  
"Yes," Amy replies. "In fact…We're the Doctor's parents-in-law. River Song is our daughter…Well, technically, her name is Melody Pond-"  
"I know that bit," I interrupt. Then I feel guilty for interrupting and prompt her to continue. "She's your daughter, right?"  
"Yes," Amy answers, "but what connection do _you_ have with her?"  
I heave a deep sigh. "I…I think I'm..." I trail off. I lift my head to look at Amy's face, and after a few moments of hesitation, I finish my sentence.  
"...their daughter." I lower my voice slightly. The hum of the TARDIS muffles our voices to Rory and the Doctor, but I just want to make sure they don't hear me. Not yet.  
Amy's face bears a look of utter shock. "You…He…But…" She shakes her head to clear her thoughts. "What makes you think that?" she finally asks.  
"Well…"  
Then, I basically start monologuing. I tell her about my visions of the TARDIS and sonic screwdriver, and I show her some of the doodles in my book of dreams. I even tell her about my cat, Milky-Way, and then suddenly realize I'd left her alone in the alley the TARDIS had landed in. Too late now.  
I tell her about the dog attacking me and how I regenerated, the main reason I think I'm connected to the Doctor and River.  
Amy was very patient and didn't interrupt or even say a word the whole time, and when I finish talking, she blinks in awe and asks me if I intend to tell the Doctor any of this.  
"No…I mean, yes…not yet," I answer inarticulately. "I mean…what if someone just came up to you and said, 'I'm your daughter!' Wouldn't that be a little…weird?"  
Amy laughs. "Funny story," she says, then I realize that what I just said actually did happen to her when River Song revealed her identity. I laugh too. We both stand up after a minute or two of silence, our conversation having come to a close. We look at each other and smile, and then Amy walks off towards Rory. I stay where I am, mesmerized by the bulby thing in the tube in the center of the TARDIS console, pulsing up and down. I watch the Doctor as he continues to flit around the console, looking at screens and readings and still pressing the occasional random button or switch. After a while, I get bored of watching him. I walk up to the Doctor, meaning to ask him if there's a place I can sleep, but instead I find myself staring at his face.  
"Uh, did you want something, Carol?" he asks me after I've been staring at him for a minute or so. I shake my head, embarrassed. "Uh, yeah. I was wondering if there is a place I can sleep…and put my stuff," I reply.  
"Down that hall, third door to the left," he says, pointing me in the right direction.  
"Thanks," I reply. I scuttle off to my room. It's empty, except for a bed and a dresser. Does he just _have_ empty rooms with beds in case he gets new companions? …Does this make _me_ a companion?  
I decide not to think about it for now, and I take everything out of my shoulder bag and put things where I would like them to be. I kind of regret leaving my laptop behind – hold on, I'm in a time machine. What could possibly be more entertaining than that?  
As if on cue, the TARDIS jolts and thrusts me into the bedroom wall. I hear the Doctor's voice ringing through from the console room; "Sorry! Wrong button!"  
I laugh to myself and turn off the lights. Pulling the covers up over my shoulders, I wonder what it will be like to dream in a time machine.

Amy goes up to the Doctor, knowing Carol is now in bed. "Doctor, I need to-"  
"Yes, just a tick-" the Doctor interrupts, running over to the other side of the TARDIS console to flip a switch.  
"Doctor-"  
"Give me a minute, Pond," the Doctor says, with a hint of frustration in his voice. He finally stops and turns to look at Amy. "What is it?"  
"Doctor…I need to talk to you," Amy says. The Doctor's eyes widen, and he immediately calls out for Rory.  
"_Rorrryyyy! She's having feelings agaaiin!"_  
"No, Doctor! This is about you and-" Amy is cut off when Rory enters the room. "Amy? What is it?"  
Amy decides to leave it for later. They leave the console room and go to their room together. They both sit down and Amy tells Rory what Carol told Amy earlier. "Carol...she might be the Doctor's daughter…or, that what she thinks, anyway. And honestly…I think she is probably right," Amy told Rory.  
"The Doctor's daughter? But then who-" Rory stops when he realizes the answer to his own question.  
"River!" Rory said. His fatherly instincts kick in. "What has she been up to with the Doctor? I knew we shouldn't have left them alone-"  
"Rory! That's not important right now! And besides, they're married, they can do whatever they want," Amy interrupts, "but Carol doesn't know what to do. She's alone in this world, or, she has been until now…and when she thinks she finally found the people who could be there for her, she doesn't know how to tell them _why_ they should be there for her in the first place."  
"Not important…?" Rory mutters under his breath.  
"Rory! Did you hear any of what I just said?"  
"Ah? Yes, sorry! But…don't you think we should tell the Doctor?" Rory wonders. Amy shakes her head.  
"I tried to talk to him…but he just sent me to you. I think he's distracted, himself, trying to figure out what's going on," Amy replies. "And Carol trusted me with her secrets. I don't want to go blurting them out all willy-nilly."  
"Like you didn't do with me," Rory says sarcastically with a smile.  
"Shut up!" Amy replies playfully, tossing a pillow at him. "Just don't mention it to the Doctor, okay? I want Carol to tell him when she's ready…or just let the Doctor figure it out on his own, like he usually does."  
"Fine," Rory agrees reluctantly.


	11. The Doctor's Daughter

CAROL SPRING ~ A DOCTOR WHO FANFICTION

Written by Creek Hymn

* * *

Ah, sleeping in a time machine. I never thought about it before – sleep has never been a big concern of mine, after all – but you can sleep forever if you want to, and still be around after the time span of a cat nap. Or, in fact, you could wake up _before _you even went to sleep. Or at the same time. You could be awake and sleeping at the same time - How does the Doctor put it? Wibbly-wobbly, timey-whimey.  
I yawn and stretch, having slept long enough, and decide to explore the TARDIS a bit further. I can't help wondering exactly how much "bigger on the inside" it _really_ is.

The Doctor dials the area code for Stormcage. A guard answers, and he quickly asks to speak to River Song. The guard, with a bit of hesitation, passes the call on to the prisoner.  
"Hello, sweetie," she greets.  
"River! Something's happened…I'll explain later. I've got someone who wants to meet you," the Doctor explains.  
"Me? Who would want to meet me?" River wonders, half to herself, half as a question to the Doctor.  
"I would," the Doctor replies. River smiles, though the Doctor can't see it, he knows that she did. "I'll be waiting," she chimes. They both hang up without saying good bye – neither of them liked saying good bye to each other, because it meant the end of another meeting…and taking one step further away from each other.  
I don't want to get lost in the TARDIS, so I only went down a couple corridors and peeked into a few rooms. Most of them were empty, some of them were full of things; things that looked like they were meant to preserve memories, and some looked as though the things left behind were of the Doctor's previous companions. There isn't quite as much in the TARDIS that tugged on the strings of my curiosity as I would have hoped for – at least, in this part of the TARDIS. It's a lot bigger on the inside than I had expected, and if I venture further, I might just get lost, so I make my way back towards the console room, where the Doctor still seems to be busy with the buttons and levers. He notices me as I enter the room.  
"Where are Amy and Rory?" I ask.  
"Still sleeping," the Doctor replies. I don't know exactly how to act around him – I know something he doesn't, but I can't tell him yet. Well, technically, I don't _know_ it…but it's pretty darn likely to be true. "It can't be a coincidence…" I mutter under my breath.  
"What? What can't be a coincidence?"  
Oops, the Doctor heard me. "Ah, nothing," I say quickly. He arches an eyebrow. "Never ignore a coincidence – unless you're busy, in that case, always ignore a coincidence," he says. The way the words roll off his tongue and the tone of each syllable suggests that this isn't the first time he's told someone that.  
"Don't you ever have a good sleep, Doctor?" I ask. I had initially assumed he just went to bed later and gotten up earlier than me, but thinking about it, he would probably have to be keeping an eye on the TARDIS most of the time.  
"Nah. I don't need to sleep as much as you…_humans_ do," he answers. I gulp, in an attempt to shove the words, '_I'm not human,_' back down my throat.  
"And you?" he asks.  
"What about me?" I reply, confused.  
"Did you have a good sleep?" the Doctor asks, more specifically.  
"Oh yeah, I, uh…did."  
If there were crickets in here, they would be singing their little "Awkward Silence" song now.  
The Doctor reaches over and turns a crank. In response, the TARDIS grumbles and gives a small shudder. He runs over to the other side of the console and does a few more things, so quickly that I can't even explain what he did. The more buttons, levers, switches, and cranks he plays around with, the more the TARDIS rumbles and quakes. I find myself clinging to the bar around the outer edge of the console room again, when suddenly the TARDIS stops again, now completely still and silent.  
Amy and Rory stumble out of a hallway, still in their nighties. "Have we landed, Doctor?" Rory asks, halfway through a yawn.  
The Doctor smiles, spins in his Doctor-ish way and almost prances towards the TARDIS doors. It's quite entertaining to watch him move about.  
I follow him down, and he opens the doors for me. Amy and Rory have gone back to their room to change into day clothes, preparing for a day full of adventures. I myself never changed out of my day clothes – I habit I formed when I slept on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop night after night. My outfit managed to stay in pretty good shape, though.  
Outside the TARDIS doors, I see a prison cell. The lighting here is dark and gloomy, in fact there is hardly any lighting except in the prison cell. My heart beats frantically – am I finally going to see, to meet, to _talk_ to River Song?  
A face turns up from the lowered position it had been in of reading a book. It was a blue book, I could see – the same colour as the TARDIS.  
Framed by the enormous, golden, bouncing, thick curls of hair is a face…a face that had been limited to the reaches of my memories and imagination until now. She stands up and pushes the cell door open, strutting away as if she was walking out of a candy shop. I see a guard lying on the floor, unconscious. I decide not to question it – she must be used to escaping that prison by now.  
She approaches, and the details of her face become clearer and clearer; more and more true to the face I could hardly remember. I step back and she brushes past me, without acknowledgement, to enter the TARDIS. The Doctor closes the doors behind her, and I stand off to the side. All I can do is stare at both of them.  
"So…you said there was someone who wants to meet me," River states questioningly to the Doctor. She looks at me.  
"Is this her?" she asks.  
"Yes," I answer for the Doctor. River steps towards me. "You're...younger than I expected," she says, a question bubbling in the tone of her voice. "What is your name, sweetie?"  
I take a deep breath. Will she recognize me? Will she remember? Is it even really her?  
"My name is…Carol. Carol Spring."  
River's eyes solidify. She stands up straight.  
She knows me.  
She knows who I am.  
"Carol Spring…" she whispers.  
"So you _do_ know her," the Doctor says. River shakes her head, more in disbelief than to say 'No'. Her face lets a smile slip through. She comes towards me and leans in, embracing me in a warm hug. I hug back – it's her. It's really her – after all this time, here she is. Right here, right now – hugging me. She knows me; I know her…River Song and Carol Spring.  
"River, who is she?" the Doctor demands. River releases her grip on me and blinks away a tear. Amy and Rory reenter the scene, stunned at the sight before them. They had never seen their daughter cry before – they had never seen her act like this at all, but they knew what was coming.  
"Doctor…I need to talk to you…alone," River whispers, glancing at Amy and Rory, and even at me. I make my way to the edge of the console room and take one last look at them before continuing down the hallway into my room. Amy and Rory do the same.

"Oh, Doctor," River begins, dusting off the Doctor's shoulder, "I hoped you would come back for me…so we could work it out together. But you never do get your dates right, do you?" She chuckled.  
"River, what are you talking about?"  
River looks up at him and smiles. She explains about the child, the child she couldn't keep in prison to have a lonely and confusing life.  
"Doctor…I had to let her go. I used my vortex manipulator to take me to Earth. I put her in a basket with the softest blankets I could find…and I didn't want her to forget who she is. I didn't want anyone to. So, I left her a hint…a tiny hint, in hope that, someday, she would work it out." She laughs again. "Carol Spring. More than just a name, like Melody Pond," River half-explains. The Doctor stands in front of her, his face absolutely frozen in astonishment. "Carol Spring…River Song…Melody Pond," she goes on. She let him figure out what she meant before continuing.  
"But…River…" the Doctor trails off, not sure how to respond to any of this. "W-Why didn't you tell me?" His voice faltered with every syllable.  
"I wanted her to have a choice," she explains, "between a…_normal_ life…and an upside-down one. I wanted it so that if she really wanted to have this life – this crazy, backwards-forwards, tangled timeline life – she would have to want it enough to come looking for it. To figure out the riddles, to solve the mystery – and be patient enough to find _us_."  
The Doctor takes a step back, flabbergasted. At first he's silent, working the knots out of what River had just told him. Then, he looks up at the woman – that crazy, backwards-forwards, tangled timeline woman – and hugs her. They hug tightly and hold on to each other for minutes, neither of them wanting to ever let go.

Little do they know, I didn't completely leave the console room. I had gone back to my room for a few seconds, but the mischievous and curious part of me got the better of me, so I had hidden around the corner of the hallway that led to my room and listened while spying on them, peering around the corner. After all, I want to know what I was all about as much as the Doctor does. River explains everything to him, and most of what I had already worked out. Some details surprise me – I thought the Doctor would have known he has a daughter, but apparently he missed that. Only a time-traveling space man like him could possibly miss something like that. I watch his expressions, his reactions, and I smile to myself when they hug. It's when they start kissing that I finally retreat back to my room. I know, I know, I'm just a little kid hiding out of disgust from my parents' romantic moments, but part of me just wants to let them have the moment to themselves. Also the disgust, though.  
After a few minutes of whatever it was the Doctor and River were doing in there, they call me back in. I stand at the edge of the room, the Doctor and River stand side by side, and we all stare at each other. Finally, a smile breaks my lips and I run towards them, throwing myself into a big hug. We are finally together – Mother, Father, Daughter…River Song, the Doctor, and Carol Spring.  
Amy and Rory come in to the room as well and join in the hug. I hadn't realized it before, but this makes Amy and Rory…  
…My grandparents.  
I laugh in pure joy and tighten my embrace. It's minutes before the Doctor finally breaks the hug, going to the TARDIS console to set the coordinates for "adventure".  
They're not just River Song, the Doctor, Amy Pond and Rory Williams anymore.  
They're Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa.  
And they're family.  
My family.  
After 12 years of this adventure, I think it's time that I began a new one.

* * *

~The End~

* * *

Or is it?


End file.
